Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Taint is a good word. Enough to stain, enough to be disfiguring, enough to leave a mark but be sweetly discreet about it. Less violent than stain, better than nishaan. People taint each other. Leave scratch marks on our shiny paint jobs that can be waxed away, but need a lot of elbow grease all the same. I’m not afraid of being tainted- being me, I will never ever remain unaffected by people, however much I may detest the notion many times (and thus have been developing stronger elbows). But that’s not the point. However pompous it may sound, I’m afraid of tainting someone else enough to rob them of happiness that could be staring them in the face. I’m afraid that some woman will have a hand in hers, her head on a shoulder that is physically there with her- but in essence, in soul, in mind....is somewhere else, and it will be my fault. I don’t ever want to inadvertently be the reason that held anyone back from finding joy in someone else. I have executed (pun not intended:P) enough rejections to know that yes, itisn’tmyfaultifthathappensilethimgownasgentlyasicould (as Pete puts it: blahblahblah) but the thought of me being a barrier instead of a conduit to anyone’s happiness is…well, worrisome. As if I’m responsible in some way for lives that should have been different if it weren’t for me. The prospect of being the reason for anyone's misery is not one I would like to entertain. Well, almost anyone's ;)Mina at 4:57 PM
